Atypical 60

I Love to Complain and Bitch. Therefore, I Vote!

Posted on November 4, 2015 by Catherine

It’s always fun to bitch and complain about the weather. We’re justified. It’s too cold. It’s too humid. It’s too hot. It’s too muggy. It’s too gray.

Honestly, I think I complain about rainy weather more than any other kind!

But it’s ok because sometimes the weather, if not cooperating can ruin plans.

It’s a fact of life to complain about hair. My hair is too frizzy. My hair is too flat. My hair is too dry. My hair is too thin. My hair is too oily. My hair is falling out.

Trust me. Most hair days are NOT this good for me. I’m currently looking like a skunk because I need to do my roots…and my hair is frizzing……..

It’s ok because our hair is supposed to be our crowning glory…and after all the pampering and love and care we give to our hair—it just doesn’t behave. And it’s ok to complain.

That new recipe that you tried and just didn’t turn out well. It’s ok. Go ahead and bitch to high heaven. You spent a lot of time working on that meal and quite a bit of money on the ingredients. Something went wrong and it could have been the writing of the recipe—perhaps instructions were not clear enough. You are justified in your complaints.

Oops! I burnt the potatoes! Bonaparte was a bit upset–but I kinda like them this way! I ruined the recipe!

Those beautiful new shoes you have been coveting and saving up to purchase just so that your feet would look spectacular and your legs would be incredibly shapely in those higher heels are killing you. They are the most uncomfortable shoes you have ever purchased. Definitely worth complaining about!

These shoes are comfortable for a couple of hours but all day and I would be dying! And complaining big time!

The asshole in the left-hand lane is talking on the phone and going slowly and won’t move over to the center lane. Oh man—flip that guy the bird and curse him out. It’s validated!

Don’t even get me started………………..

You are on a crowded elevator and someone passes gas. Early in the morning. Go ahead and say something! I would. I would complain by stating loudly “Oh. My. God. To the person who passed the gas—you couldn’t wait to leave the elevator and go to the bathroom?”

…and I would be the person to confront you. I don’t care who hears me!

I’ve complained about and returned meat that was bad, milk that had gone slightly sour, and makeup that didn’t live up to the promises made in the advertisements. I’ve even been tempted to bring a faulty tampon back to the store—but even I sometimes have boundaries!

For me, complaining is an art. Bonaparte is amazed at my fine talent for complaint. He swears that I complain better than any of his native countrymen and women.

France–you have met your complaining match! THIS American can win an international complaining contest. And I can shrug with the best of them too!

However, I only complain when the complaint is validated.

That is why I vote.

Every. Single. Vote. Counts!

I despise most politicians because they lie. They all have personal agendas that have nothing to do with you or me. They only want power and many of the elected officials, no matter what their party, abuse and take advantage of that power.

This asshole on the left wants more “family” time–but only for HIM and nobody else. The moron on the right is just vile. Replacing Boehner with Ryan was going from bad to worse. If we didn’t have a certain “ilk” running congress, Ryan and his narcissistic puss wouldn’t be Speaker. Ugh.

Presently, it is my duty as an American, to try my best to make sure the bible-banging, self-righteous and fake Christians do NOT get elected into office. Church and State need to be separated. My Hipster Jesus needs a godamn break!

Look at that sad face on Jesus. Give the guy a break already. He wants no part of politics!

There are times when I vote for the winner and times when I vote for the candidate who lost the election.

It doesn’t matter though because I am validated in any complaint I make. I can bad mouth and yell and scream and huff and puff and blow the house in over the bad politics. I am justified because I voted.

Oh yes. I am just like that big bad wolf because I am so full of wind and hot air!

On election day, I make sure to vote. No excuses. In these United States of America we are lucky enough to have the privilege of a democracy. We are able to vote.

Some other countries’ citizens are not as lucky or privileged as we are.

Some people think local elections are silly and not worth their time of the vote—and these are the same people who will complain about members of local school boards and local politicians. But they aren’t justified in complaining because they didn’t vote! How can you complain if you didn’t vote? Isn’t that hypocrisy?

It’s sad. Bonaparte and I were watching the local news earlier this evening in hopes to find out some of the election results. Nothing was mentioned. On the CBS affiliate or the NBC affiliate or the ABC affiliate. Nada. Nothing. However, there were more than enough feel-good news stories and too many medical stories. But nothing about the local elections. The local news is nothing more than The National Enquirer for TV.

Local news is a joke–and all three networks should be ashamed of themselves for being too corporate and politically correct! I’m tired of feel good and disease-of-the-day stories!

Listen. I hate to sound “preachy”, but all I want is a better world and place for our future children to live. I don’t want any more wars. I don’t want any more troops losing limbs and life. I don’t want the insurance companies to rule our lives. I want my Social Security when it is due me.

As a hippie at heart, all I want is peace and love and happiness!

I want peace. And love. And happiness. And the ability to eat massive amounts of cheese and chocolate and not gain an ounce.

All this cheese and….

Chocolate without gaining weight make me a happy camper!

So let’s do this—we have an important election coming up next year. We gotta start thinking about this and if we want to complain we need to get out and vote. I’m already complaining because in Montgomery County, PA, where I voted, only 26 percent of the voters made it to the polls. What was more important–watching reality TV?

Thank you for allowing me to vent and complain. I feel so much better already! XOXOXO

I have “High Hopes”…and so does Frank Sinatra! XOXOXO

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Vote. Elections. Local Elections. Complaining. The Art of Complaining. | 21 Comments

Where The Hell Did Thanksgiving Go?

Posted on November 3, 2015 by Catherine

Halloween is over. Luckily we had a ton of trick-or-treaters and there was not one piece of candy left for me to shove into my mouth. The neighborhood kids are angels for helping me to stick to my diet.

Oona was in for a visit this past weekend and the two of us delightfully answered the door and “ohhhh and ahhhhh-ed” at all the wonderful costumes.

I miss making Halloween costumes for my kids. It was so much fun–Oona as Pebbles. Roman as a drowned Titanic passenger and Jake as The Penguin!

Sunday, November 1^st, the day after Halloween, Bonaparte and I, along with Chippy the wonderdog, drove Oona to New York’s LaGuardia Airport from our home in the Philly suburbs. It was also the day of the New York Marathon–something neither of us realized until the night before!

Thanks to the Marathon, I was unable to get across the Verrazano Bridge–either way!

Our only entryway into Queens was to drive to the George Washington Bridge, which was the only bridge opened. We then drove across the island of Manhattan at Dykman Street and took the Harlem River Drive to the Triboro Bridge.

It was worse for Oona. Once she boarded the plane there was an announcement that the pilot forgot he had a flight and they had to wait for him. American Airlines–thankfully, the pilot wasn’t in a bar drinking!

I’m getting off track here. Driving Oona to the airport was basically easy peasy. No traffic to speak of. But…we got a look at the traffic leaving the city and it was one big mess. The Verrazano was closed. The Queensboro Bridge was closed and the George Washington Bridge was the only way back.

Nahhh..It wasn’t. We just redirected ourselves and took the Queens Midtown Tunnel into Manhattan and the Lincoln Tunnel to the Jersey Turnpike. It was the first time we had NEVER hit traffic leaving NYC to go home.

And my point is this—when we arrived back into our development, I noticed Christmas lights on one of the homes down the street. The day after Halloween. Christmas lights were flashing.

OK..so this is an exaggeration. It isn’t the house down the street. It’s Mr. Martell’s house in Hamilton, New Jersey–the BEST decorated house in Central Jersey. But the house down the street DID have their Christmas lights flashing!

A few houses down were those little welcome candle lights that people put in their windows at Christmas time. The day after Halloween. And…directly across the street from us stood a lighted Christmas tree in our neighbor’s living room. The day afterHalloween.

Yes. It’s the tree of Christmas and it is directly across from me! I could not believe it!

Which brings me to wonder. What the Hell happened to Thanksgiving?

Yeah–but what about Thanksgiving?

I’ll admit it; Thanksgiving has never been my favorite Holiday. Growing up in the 1960’s, in an age of convenience, my mother had the deli across the street “cater” the turkey with all the trimmings. The only part of the turkey that I liked was the dark meat and I could only eat it on a sandwich with stuffing and cranberry sauce. I cannot stand turkey.

I don’t like pumpkin pie. I despise green bean casserole. Sausage stuffing gives me heartburn. I only like bread stuffing and cranberry sauce. And the cranberry sauce has to be the jellied kind. My four other siblings also liked cranberry sauce so there would be massive fights at the dinner table to see who got the most cranberry sauce. Then my sister Theresa would start to cry because Thanksgiving was supposed to be about giving thanks and we were acting like animals. Then my mother would get in on the act and give us all that “pursed lip mom is pissed off” look. My father would just sigh and light up a cigarette. At the dinner table.

Honest to God, I think Norman Rockwell was delusional. We’ve NEVER had a Thanksgiving that resembled THIS picture. Never!!!!

Thanksgiving became worse for me when I got married. My mother-in-law had a rather “strong” personality. OK? That meant we had to travel up to Connecticut every Thanksgiving. While the night before Thanksgiving was usually fun—especially when the entire family was visiting, the next day was more stressful. Some family members would attend the local high school’s football game. They would bring flasks. Before sipping from the flask, there would be a lot of beer consumed. I’m talkin’ early in the morning. Are you catching my drift? Along with my distain of turkey is an even stronger distain of beer. Need I say more?

Sometimes it just sucks to be sober.

Jake, in Kindergarten at St. Ignatius Loyola in NYC. He was an Indian–Oops–I mean “Native American” at his class Thanksgiving. It was most likely the most refined Thanksgiving celebration he’s ever taken part in!

That being said, my mother-in-law couldn’t sit still. Her pressure cooker whistling away, working swiftly, she would have that dinner on the table in two minutes—and would be clearing the table the second the last guest sat down to eat. It was “extra” special during the years that her oldest son was not in attendance. She would sit at the table and cry—literally cry because Richard wasn’t there. I cannot make this up.

My solace came in the form of the great desserts she made. My mother-in-law was an amazing baker—and no matter how many times I asked her for recipes—she would never give me any! Her “Texas Chocolate Cake” became my bestie during those Thanksgivings because I would lock myself in the attic with a few slices and a glass of milk and pray that the weekend would end. I gave thanks because that Texas Chocolate Cake saved my sanity during quite a few Thanksgivings!

Then Oona became a competitive Irish Dancer. And Thanksgiving dinner took on new meaning.

No. It isn’t Oona dressed in a Native American headdress. Nor is she Medusa. This is how she sat at the Thanksgiving dinner table for a few years before the curly wigs came into fashion for the Irish Dancers.

The Mid-Atlantic Oireachtas (as in Oh-rock-this)—Irish Dance regionals were held on Thanksgiving weekend every year. That meant cooking turkey with all the trimmings, scarfing down the meal and immediately after dinner, Oona and I would head for three days of competition at the Downtown Marriott in Philly.

Ten Thanksgiving weekends were spent with Irish Dance friends. And we had a great, great time!

My sons gave thanks for three days of football –turning the house into a man cave of sorts.

I’ve had Thanksgiving disasters in the form of the year we had Turducken. The chicken stuffed into a duck stuffed into a turkey. Each form of bird layered with a strange stuffing. Turducken tastes like shit. However, my sons ate it with no problem.

Turducken. It was horrific and worse than regular turkey!

One year, to save time, I decided to let Wegman’s “cook” my turkey. What I never realized was that the “cooked” turkey was only partially cooked. I’m not even going to explain that disaster.

Later on, as the kids got older, we started to enjoy Thanksgiving dinner at my sister Germaine’s home out on Long Island. Even then, I would have to listen to Bonaparte fret about how bad the traffic back to the Philly burbs would be. But it was always great to get back to Long Island and enjoy the traditional meal with my sister and her family and all the kids!

Last year Bonaparte and I spent Thanksgiving at home. Just the two of us. Oona was visiting my brother and his family in Texas. Roman had to work the parade so he and Jake spent dinner with my ex-husband.

I roasted pheasant and baked bread and we had a nice bottle of wine. I was thankful we did not have turkey. But I missed the kids.

This year, Bonaparte and I are meeting the kids in Manhattan. Oona will be flying in from a business trip in Toronto and then coming home with us. Roman has to work the cue cards for the parade. Jake made reservations at Claudette, a French restaurant and we will enjoy our Thanksgiving meal in the heart of Greenwich Village.

I’m looking forward to Thanksgiving dinner here at Claudette!

Naturally, Bonaparte had me call the restaurant to see if there were choices besides turkey for the main plat. *Sigh* My Frenchman. I am happy to say that Bonaparte is giving thanks that Claudette’s chef is French and is offering more than turkey. Oh let’s all give thanks for that one!

In spite of all my complaining though, Thanksgiving still IS a holiday. And despite the family drama and the yelling and screaming and stress of it all, this holiday shouldn’t be hidden by the Halloween festivities or the prepping for Christmas.

Seriously. Let’s not forget this day. It’s sad but this was the only sign of Thanksgiving in Walmart today….and this…

What a sad looking display!

Let’s put the stress and the yelling and the screaming and the fighting and the drama with our families on the table and give thanks for all that noise that families bring to the plate!

You can say that again Tom Turkey! The struggle to keep Thanksgiving IS real!

Let’s give Thanksgiving the respect it deserves—even if we don’t like turkey.

I wonder if they REALLY had jellied cranberry sauce and Jiffy corn bread?

Let’s try to welcome Santa and Frosty and the Christmas decorations after our Thanksgiving dessert has been digested.

Hey you two. I’m gonna wait till after Thanksgiving to allow you into my home. OK?

I gotta go now and take inventory of my Christmas decorations!

In the meantime—Adam Sandler has a nice Thanksgiving song for you!

Paris Without Danièle. Part Trois

Posted on October 29, 2015 by Catherine

Alrighty. We’re winding the weekend down and I’m hoping this isn’t becoming a bore for you to read, but I’ve just got so much to say about so many of the little things that occurred so take my hand and come on along with me on this overcast Sunday morning in Paris…..

It was another “sleep late” day, but we were lucky to have gained an hour due to the time change. Nevertheless, our wonderfully entertaining dinner with Jean-Denis and Marie ended at a time when Bonaparte and I are usually in dreamland!

Once again, we missed breakfast at the hotel but after getting dressed, we headed over to Rue Buci to “Paul”—not to be confused with Chez Paul over on Place Dauphine, this is the boulangerie/patisserie chain throughout France and in the DC area of the States.

Paul, on Rue Buci is a great place for those “I missed breakfast” breakfasts!

Even though the rest of Paris was sleepy and the streets were empty, Rue Buci was still buzzing. I had a hot chocolate with a pain au chocolat and Bonaparte had some strong coffee and a croissant.

Paris. Paul. Pain au chocolat for breakfast.

Look at that decadent hot chocolate. It was the bomb!!!

The weather continued with low gray clouds but the clarity and crispness of the air made for another perfect to walk around Paris and enjoy our role of being a couple of flaneurs (wanderers, loafers, dawdlers, strollers…)

Other wanderers were scattered about but it was pretty quiet. Isn’t that lighting amazing? Every once in a while the sun peeked out to tease us!

It was nice to just walk around and take random pics of anything that caught our eyes!

With dinner at Michel’s and Marie-Claude’s on the horizon, our goal for today was to walk over to Montparnasse and see the Atelier Andre Girard before it closed for good. It was decided to close the gallery, named in honor of Bonaparte’s maternal grandfather that Danièle operated. We also wanted to visit Danièle one last time before we left for home.

Sunday in Paris is a great day to just wander around aimlessly. Even in the later morning into early afternoon, the city is empty of the traffic that consumes the boulevards, avenues and narrow streets during the rest of the week. Most Parisians are home sleeping off their indulgences of the night before. Those who are out and about are doing so at a snail’s pace rather than rushing like a hare that’s about to be trapped, cooked and eaten for a comforting meal!

A lonely, quiet corner on a late Sunday morning in Paris. It doesn’t get much better than this!

Walking along Blvd. Raspail was easy and slow. We passed familiar and not-so-familiar shops and sights. I knew we were approaching the gallery when I spotted the little flower shop where we’ve purchased beautiful little bouquets and had pleasant conversation with the owner.

One of my favorite boulevards to walk along–always something interesting to see.

We stopped by the gallery and it was weird to see the usually bustling street so quiet. We usually have to circle the street a few times before finding a parking spot but today we were the only form of life.

The gallery will be closing for good soon.

Bonaparte was quite proud of himself as he remembered a shortcut to the cemetery. The cemetery was peacefully quiet except for the rustling of leaves that fell on the ground. The scent of the fallen leaves mixed with the dampness of the previous night brought back memories of autumns past. You know what I’m talking about don’t you? You know that particularly leafy smell—it doesn’t have that “new” spring scent and it doesn’t smell like the ground does after a good rainfall. It’s the scent of leaves that are starting to decay—but it isn’t a bad smell. I guess it’s an appropriate scent for a cemetery!

Montparnasse Cemetery is actually a nice place for some quiet time–although I think the spirits here are prepping for Halloween!

Anyway, as we got closer to Danièle’s grave, we noticed that people were there. We really, really just wanted to spend some time alone with her—just like we did at the apartment. But you know what? It was just very touching for Bonaparte to see that people, strangers in fact, were paying their respects to her. When the small but steady stream of people stopped, the three of us were finally together in solitude. We thanked Danièle for all her generosity and all the happy memories she gave us. I tidied up the flowers around the grave, we said our goodbyes and we were off again.

I’m telling you, Daniele had the most decorative grave in the yard! And fashionably added some color to the gray atmosphere!

We came across a little pop-up market where local artists were selling their paintings, sculptures, photographs and jewelry. And stopped to browse and admire.

We walked some more and a shop that really caught my eye was one that sold only gloves. Gloves! I had to take a picture—if only the shop had been opened on this Sunday, I would have gone in and come out with a fancy pair of Parisian gloves. Or maybe not since I have a habit of losing at least three pair of gloves each year!

Can you believe this? I want those black riding gloves with the red trim. How about you?

We were stopped by a lost couple who needed directions. Bonaparte was able to assist and the couple happily thanked him.

I took pictures of signs and buildings to remember this day.

I literally stumbled upon this little wheelbarrow. Actually, I almost FELL over it. Isn’t it cute?

More buildings!

More signs!

When we passed by the Jardin du Luxembourg we decided to see an exhibit of Fragonard’s paintings. It’s so great to just stumble into an exhibit by an artist we both love..and Fragonard’s paintings are like little day dreams!

This was a GREAT exhibit!

Look how dreamy Fragonard’s paintings are!

Fragonard is one of my favorite painters–the paintings are so soft!

The later in the afternoon, the more the city became active. We headed back to the hotel to pack because we had a cab coming to pick us up at 6:00 AM the next day. And—to tell you the truth, I just wanted to be packed before we went out for dinner.

We had been invited to dinner at the home of Bonaparte’ brother-in-law. Michel. Michel had been divorced from Bonaparte’s sister, who had since passed away. Are you following? Marie-Claude, Michel’s wife and Michel have remained very close to Bonaparte’s family. We’ve had dinner with them before at Danièle’s and I’ve always liked them and this would be the first time for me to be invited into their home.

We were also lucky that Ann-Sophie, Michel and Marie-Claude’s daughter was driving from the suburb of Asnières into Paris to offer us door-to-door service.

Did you ever go to someone’s home and from the moment you entered through the threshold of the door, you just knew you were going to have a great time? Yeah! That’s how it was at Michel and Marie-Claude’s home. The vibe was just so intensely welcoming and happy! And we were more than pleasantly surprised to see Bonaparte’s nephew Nicolas, his wife and their children. We were greeted with champagne and lively conversation. We were also greeted by Bonaparte’s other nephew Jean and his great sense of humor

Their home was a French dream. It was magnificent but not cold nor was it austere. The furnishings were beautiful and comfortable. Old and new. Lots of artwork on the walls. A large farm table in the dining room. Plopable comfy sofas in the living room. An old curved stairway leading upstairs. A sunroom to the back. A library chock-full of classic books on the side of the living room. Large windows let in the sunshine during the day and the streetlights from outside at night.

Marie-Claude is my new favorite hostess. She was so relaxed and not fussy at all and was constantly moving—making sure the kids had enough toys while the adults enjoyed pre-dinner conversation. And the dinner. Ohhhhhhhhhh. We started off with a fish mousse that I could have had seven helpings of. The main course was bœuf bourguignon—and holy shit—let me tell you something. It was the best I’ve ever had—even Bonaparte had to admit it. I have no idea what recipe Marie-Claude has, but I wish my own bourguignon was as good as hers—and mine is good but nowhere near hers! I wanted to lick the plate then head into her kitchen to lick the pans that she used!

Dessert was a delicious apple crumble that Ann-Sophie made—she’s obviously inherited her mother’s talent for culinary delights and after some coffee and tea and more conversation, it was late enough to head back to the hotel for a few hours’ sleep before flying back home…

Early Monday morning. It was not yet daylight as we drove out of Paris to the airport. Saying goodbye to Paris is always hard—but this time it was harder because it wasn’t saying goodbye to the city—it was a final goodbye to Danièle.

One last picture before leaving. Early morning darkness!

Paris will be different without her. Our trips won’t be the same—the same for sure. And in the future we’ll be seeing Paris through a different window—and that’s cool and wonderful because we are left with the greatest and best and most fun memories of one of the Paris’s brightest lights!

And she even watched over us when we arrived at the airport—I swear she winked. Oh yes. She did!

Can you believe it? This French gossip magazine had her on the cover–and I swear she laughed and winked at us. I think she was playing a joke!

Music today is from Bonaparte’s nephew Jean Wellers in an homage to Stephane Wrembel. Bistrot fada a Cavaliere.. Nice guitar playing!

Here’s Jean Wellers! Enjoy! XOXOXO!

Posted in Daniele Delorme. Jean Wellers | Tagged Loss into happiness. France | 15 Comments

Paris Without Danièle Part Deux

Posted on October 28, 2015 by Catherine

We left off going back to the hotel to get a well-needed sleep. But before I continue I’m just going to move back a bit—OK?

We took a nice walk on the Seine on our way back to the hotel. We spotted a group of young people dining al fresco, I took a pic of Danièle’s building from across the river and we enjoyed our quiet stroll back.

Evening along the Seine–a group of young people enjoying a lamp-lit meal al fresco!

Look to the right. See the arched windows–well, Daniele’s building is to the left. Peek-a-boo hoo!

In the meantime, I forgot to tell you—Bonaparte’s “cousin”, Jean-Denis Robert and his wife, Marie invited us to dinner at their apartment for Saturday night. Then Bonaparte’s brother-in-law Michel (Bonaparte’s sister Isabel passed away) and his wife Marie-Claude invited us over to their home for dinner on Sunday night. Hold on—I’m getting ahead of myself now. I’ll get back to the dinners later. But it was good for Bonaparte to keep busy and being invited to dinner was great.

Bonaparte’s cousin, Jean-Denis–and he happens to be standing in front of Atelier Andre Girard Gallerie–which I’ll be writing about in my next installment!!!

Back to the weekend…

So anyway, we woke up very late on Saturday morning. By the time we got ready it was almost noon. And it was too late for “petit déjeuner”—breakfast and, by Paris standards, too early for lunch. I had an agenda that would keep Bonaparte busy for the day. We would walk around The Latin Quarter and St. Germain. Besides—I had errands to run.

Nya, ha, ha! We overslept but aren’t guilty about it. Sleep was surely needed!

The weather was brisk and cool—a perfect day for walking around. It dawned on me that Autumn is the greatest season in Paris. Summer, especially this past summer was unbearably hot. The cold winter wind can make your eyes tear up so quickly and make your ears ache. It rains so much in Spring. But Autumn—the lighting is different. The sky is overcast, but not in a depressing way. I think it may be due to the bright colors of the falling leaves that are a nice contrast against that gray sky. You know what I mean?

We walked over to Place Dauphine first. It looked so empty and barren compared to the liveliness of the square in the summer.

An unoccupied bench on Place Dauphine. In the summer people practically have to fight to sit on this! Isn’t it pretty in it’s lonlieness though?

We took the stairway down to the parking garage that housed Danièle’s car. Yeah. That’s right. I wanted to take a picture in front of the car. Actually, I wanted to break into the car just so that I could sniff that scent of L’Heure Bleu perfume and cigarettes but Bonaparte stopped me. I opted for a silly photo instead.

Can you just picture it? “I’m sorry officer, but all I wanted was a sniff of L’Heure Bleue perfume and cigarettes”!

We walked over to Gilbert Jeune on Place Saint-Michel. Bonaparte’s granddaughter loves sticker activity books and I figured I would get a head start on some Christmas shopping! I also needed another journal!

Look at those stickers–aren’t they the cutest? Look at the little pastries and croissants. Oh–I want to eat them! I swear I should have purchased a sticker book for me!

Next stop was a used CD shop that I love rummaging through to add to my collection of French music. I was lucky to find a few CD’s and to finally snag a Daniel Balavoine CD.

Bonaparte was a bit thirsty—or, rather, I think he just wanted to sit for a while so we stopped at a café, Le Depart, and warmed ourselves up with “chocolat chaud”. The French sure know how to make a killer cup of hot chocolate—it was heavenly. The Autumn weather was still just slightly warm enough to sit outside, watch the passersby and to eavesdrop on those on either side of us. To the left we couldn’t help but hear the incredibly loud British expats discussing their childhood spent of nannies, horses and balls. To the right of us sat a group of Frenchmen—but they weren’t Parisian. They looked like laborers from the north that were enjoying the sights of Paris for the weekend. And they laughed, and smoked, and took photos of each other and smoked some more!

Mmmmmm. Chocolat Chaud. It’s so intense and chocolatey and warms your body!

In front of us was an accordionist. He was a portly man with dark hair and features and he among his playlist was seemingly the best of Edith Piaf. He paced the length of the café hoping that any one person would offer him a Euro or two in exchange for sharing his musical talent.

Our accordianist set the tone for people watching from Le Depart!

His music did add a soundtrack to the activity on the street. A young boy on his scooter, bumping into his mother. The mother becoming annoyed and agitated, yelling at her son. The son arguing back until……the mother’s hand suddenly gave a whack across the boy’s bottom. The arguing stopped and Bonaparte and I had a good chuckle about how if that scene played out in the States, a stranger would have called the police! An older couple slowly walking their small dog who seemed to be moving much faster than them. A young man, in jeans and a perfectly fitted blazer with his scarf thrown around his neck, passed by at a brisk speed speaking into his cell phone. A young woman dressed in the highest of heels and not losing balance as she darted up the street.

People watching never gets boring in Paris!

The next errand was to my Parisian Nirvana. Citypharma. The mother of all mothers of all-things-beauty related. And the prices are dirt cheap. You simply cannot miss Citypharma. It’s on the corner of Rue du Four and Rue Bonaparte. But the real landmark of this remarkable store is the crowd of men standing outside on the street waiting for their women’s exit. Bonaparte was one of those men-in-waiting. Since I’m familiar with Citypharma, I was able to grab what I needed quickly, but I still took my time on the way to the cashier. You just never know what other bargains you will find!

Forget Chanel, THIS is MY bag of choice!

The shelves are crammed with great and discounted beauty and body products. Love!

Some of my treasures from CityPharma. The best prices for Le Petit Marseillais products too..and the Nuxe huile retails for the USD equivalent of 12.50. The same size bottle retails for $29.00 here! Just sayin’!!!

Our walk wasn’t finished yet!

Oh, we be hangin’ out in the 6th all day!

We headed over to Eglise St. Germain-des-Prés for a few moments of quiet reflection. The church is just so ancient and in need of so many repairs and restoration and Bonaparte made a donation. Besides—with the activity of the funeral yesterday, it was nice to see the church back to normal with the scattering of both tourists and faithful.

Exterior of Eglise St. Germain-des-Pres. Is this woman waiting for God-ot?

We took the long way back to the hotel at a leisurely pace and feet away from the hotel, we heard someone call Bonaparte’s name. It was Bonaparte’s half-brother, Francois.

Bonaparte’s brothers, Francois and Martin

OK—I can’t stand the term “half”—so it was Bonaparte’s brother, Francois and his wife Beatrice. They live at the edge of Paris but were enjoying the 6^th on this nice day. It’s funny because when you think of it, Paris may be a city, but it really is like a small town. We’ve run into other relatives of Bonaparte while roaming the streets and today—this was a nice surprise. The four of us decided to grab a drink and spend some time together during these late afternoon hours.

We walked up the street to La Palette, a very busy Bistro on Rue du Seine in St. Germain.

If you want to celebrity watch, THIS is the place to do it! Oh…I wish I had taken photos!

Bonaparte and Francois talked family and we talked about travels throughout France and we had a great time. I almost died though because guess who was sitting at the table across from us? Eric Clapton—and I didn’t want to be rude so I missed an epic photo moment. Eric. Effing. Clapton! Add to that, moments later, the actor Gilles Lellouche, plops himself at a table to my right. I was on celebrity cloud neuf! We finally made it back to the hotel for a bit of a rest and to regroup before heading out to dinner.

Gilles Lellouche–OMG. He is such a great actor and he was sitting right near me.

In all the years we’ve been visiting Paris as a couple, Danièle has always hosted dinners. Jean-Denis, Yves son and Danièle’s stepson and Marie, his wife have been frequent dinner guests and we’ve always had a wonderful time with each other. It was an absolute pleasure to be invited to their home for dinner. Their apartment is iconic Parisian. Mouldings on the walls and ceilings, old chevron-patterned hardwood floors, a marble fireplace in the salon, ceiling to floor windows, beautifully draped and loads of character and charm made me covet their home.

Mixed in with some old school furnishings are touches of funky art. The apartment is an eclectic and joyful mix and is a complete reflection of Jean-Denis and Marie’s personalities. After consuming a ton of fantastic food and a ton of good wine and quite possibly the best grape tarte I’ve ever had in my life, we were ready to call it a night.

Jean-Denis, a photographer, gifted us with a little book of his photographs that he made when he attended “La Bravade” this summer. It’s a celebration honoring St. Torpès, the Patron Saint of St. Tropez. La Bravade is also a military celebration where everyone is dressed in uniform and native French costume. Note to self: Work on Bonaparte—maybe we can visit St. Tropez next year during this festival!

We missed this festival by two weeks. Arrrgh!! It would have been a blast to be there–especially with Bonaparte’s family!

There’s daddy Bonaparte with Bonaparte’s brother Martin. Daddy Bonaparte is like the Mayor of St. Tropez.

A late night into an early morning but back to a late night because the clocks were pushed back an hour—the French are a week ahead of us on this one.

We were reminded to turn our clocks back by this sign in the elevator. Bonne Nuit!

Uh oh! Don’t be mad at me but I have to continue this weekend in Paris to another part! Sunday’s adventures will be continued………………….

In the meantime, here’s a song by an ex-tennis player turned musician. Yannick Noah—”Ye Mama Ye” I love this catchy song—it’s easy and funky! Enjoy XOXOXO!

Posted in Daniele Delorme, Jean Denis Robert. Dany Lartigue. St. Tropez. CityPharma, La Palette. St. Germain de Pres | Tagged France, Fun in Paris. Autumn in Paris, Loss., Weekend in Paris | 13 Comments

Paris Without Danièle. Part Un.

Posted on October 27, 2015 by Catherine

Hi all. We are back from what was the shortest visit we’ve made to Paris, the circumstances certainly not the best, but I want to tell you about our weekend. I’m dividing this into three parts for your convenience.

I HAD to post this picture of Daniele because I think it is just such a beautiful photo of her.

Thursday evening, we boarded our flight, which, thankfully wasn’t delayed in any way. Because time was of the essence, we only took carryon luggage. We would have no time to waste in collecting baggage once we landed at CDG. We zoomed through customs, I changed into heels and we were off to cab it to Paris Centre.

With traffic being the mess that it is on the way to Paris on a typical weekday morning, it stayed true to form—it crawled! Our plan was to drop our luggage at the hotel while the cab waited, then make our way to Eglise St. Germain des Pres for the funeral service.

En route to the hotel, Bonaparte received a call from one of his relatives to come to Danièle’s apartment for the last viewing before heading to the church. Luckily, time was on our side and we were able to drop the luggage off at the hotel and walk to the apartment. We were fortunate to be staying at a hotel that was literally two blocks from Danièle’s.

We stayed at the Hotel Prince de Conti, which I will go into more in Part II. We highly recommend this little hotel!

It’s funny how little changes occur over the shortest span of time.

The elevator in Danièle’s building was always a bone of contention. It was always breaking down. Always—and it seemed to love to break down whenever Bonaparte and I were staying there! It was always repaired in such a bandaged way so that the repairs were temporary.

We were shocked to see a spanking new elevator and it gave us a good laugh for a moment.

Bonaparte’s relatives were gathered in her apartment for their last good-byes. She had been laid out at home. Danièle had a thing about not wanting to be on display at a funeral home. Instead, she was at peace on her bed in her chambre.

The apartment was so jammed with people that I almost wished only Bonaparte, and Daniele and I were the only ones there.

Quite honestly, I thought she would have looked better. Bonaparte almost kicked me out of the room when I reached for the blush that was stashed in my purse. My thought was if I could touch her up a bit with a tiny amount of makeup, she would look a bit more alive. Perhaps it the Long Island girl in me, but I’m used to a ton of makeup on those who are dearly departed. I also wanted to go into her closet and dress her in a more colorful ensemble—an action which made Bonaparte almost pass out.

He guided me out of her room very quietly and efficiently.

The service at the massive ancient church was very touching and sad. I think she would have been moved by the amount of people who went to pay their respects. Photographers were outside behind a barricade snapping away and the police kept guard.

I didn’t take any photos of the service because it would have been incredibly inappropriate, but this is the inside of the church. I took this pic the day after.

At the cemetery in Montparnasse, it was difficult to see her coffin being lowered into the ground. It was even more difficult and painful for Bonaparte to see this and my heart hurt for him. The only solace was that Danièle and her husband, Yves, would be resting together for eternity while their son Xavier rested just feet away. The leaves were falling like tear drops from the trees that stood over the graves.

I think the trees were sad too–and that’s why the leaves were falling like tears.

The overcast and gray sky seemed to be a sign that Paris was also sad to lose her beloved Danièle.

From there we attended a gathering of family and friends. It was just a bit odd to be the lone American—but not in a bad way at all. I just felt like an observer on the outside looking in at some of Bonaparte’s family that I hadn’t really gotten to know. Two sides of the family. One side somewhat dismissed. The other side very much active and welcomed. I felt like I was watching a film, but couldn’t quite figure out the plot.

Champagne and wine flowing freely gave me a bit of confidence to approach some of Bonaparte’s family that I hadn’t seen in quite some time. I’m glad I was able to have the balls to do that too, because I ended up having some really great conversations and meeting some very interesting people!

There was plenty of finger food too, but I was so afraid to gorge and stuff my face with all those delights because I didn’t want anyone to think I was a gluttonous American. It was hard though because I was so hungry and the champagne was starting to make me tipsy.

I realized I was a bit buzzed because on the way out of the restaurant, I approached the actor Jean Rochefort to tell him I was a huge fan. He was seated with some of Bonaparte’s relatives so I figured it was ok. I asked him if he spoke English and he smiled and said “ee leetle beet”. So I told him how much I loved him in the movie “Calmos” and he almost passed out! He was in a state of shock because he told me that “Calmos” caused quite the scandal in France. Not wanting him to feel bad, I told him all of America loved the movie (in my own little world my friends and I who saw and loved the film are all of America)! He kissed my hand. The moment was seized!

Jean Rochefort, acteur francais pendant l’enregistrement de l’emission Esprits Libres Paris,FRANCE- 02/11/06

Jean Rochefort was a very good friend of both Daniele and Yves. He was also starred with Daniele in Yves hit “Pardon Mon Affaire”–a really, really funny movie!

If you ever get the chance, try to Netflix or rent this movie. It’s hysterical!

At this point I was actually happy to leave because my feet were in absolute pain. The damn J. Crew Dulci pumps that I coveted so much and hadn’t worn all that much were killing me. I swear to God, I will never again purchase another pair of overpriced shoes from J. Crew. The shoes looked fantastic, but after wearing them from seven in the morning and standing for hours in them, I was about to take them off and walk barefoot through the streets of Paris. The only thing that stopped me was the scattering of dog shit randomly placed along the sidewalks. I’m telling you, it was a miracle that we were able to get a cab almost immediately. I think Danièle was helping my aching feet out!

Back at the hotel, Bonaparte and I were able to get a couple hours of well-needed sleep before heading out to dinner.

We had dinner at Chez Paul over on Place Dauphine. We enjoyed many fun meals at this restaurant with Danièle and wanted to celebrate her life—just the two of us.

Our celebration started out with a kir royale and a porto-in honor of Daniele!

Paris. Chez Paul. Steak and Parmesean topped potatoes

Paris. Chez Paul. Escargot and a good red wine

Paris. Chez Paul. Fricasee of Champignon and snails

We celebrated with steak tartare, steak, those glorious little potatoes, escargot and good red wine and a fricassee of mushroom and snails in a foam!

Place Dauphine was quiet—a radical change from the summer when the square is chock-full of life. Even so, it’s even more beautiful this time of year.

Place Dauphine in the fall in the evening is so different than in the summer–but is still beautiful!

We had a nice walk back to the hotel and stopped by Pont Neuf for some sweet memories.

Bonaparte doesn’t want to return to Paris anytime soon.

To be continued…………………………….

A beautiful version of “The Last Time I Saw Paris” by Henry Mancini..XOXOXOXO

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Daniele Delorme, Funeral in Paris, Loss., Sadness | 26 Comments

Merci and Thank You For Your Condolences

Posted on October 21, 2015 by Catherine

In a few minutes I’ll start to pack for our trip to Paris. It isn’t going to be our usual kind of visit. There is no jumping up and down in excitement. There will be no planning on what sights we will be seeing or which restaurants we will be dining at.

We will not be driving randomly around Paris at strange hours of the late nights into early mornings.

It will be a different kind of trip. We will be giving our farewells to Bonaparte’s aunt, Danièle.

Before I start to stuff more than what I probably need into my carry-on, I just wanted to take a moment to say thank you.

Thank you to all my blogger friends and friends who read the blog for your condolences and kind and loving thoughts. This little community we have is a true family and I so much appreciate all your words. Bonaparte is also very touched.

I will leave and I will report back in a few days of our celebration of life!

Hugs, kisses and many, many thanks! XOXOXO!

Posted in Uncategorized | 19 Comments

Rest In Peace Ma Gigi. Remembering Danièle Delorme

Posted on October 20, 2015 by Catherine

It’s funny how signals and messages are sent. Saturday morning Bonaparte and I made our regularly timed call to his aunt, Danièle. She didn’t answer her phone and we figured she was out and about. Even though it was early we chalked it up to “That’s’ Danièle”! We would call her Sunday instead.

Saturday evening, after dinner, we decided to watch a couple of movies. We checked our queue on Hulu and decided on two movies, “Les Grandes Maneuvres” a light and silly French film about soldiers, pre-WWI, getting their sexy on, and Fellini’s “8 1/2”. Bonaparte wanted to watch the French film because Danièle’s husband, Yves Robert had a decent role in the film. “Les Grandes Maneuvres” also starred Gérard Philipe, who happened to be Danièle’s first teen-aged love.

How ironic that during her last evening we would be watching a movie that starred her first love, Girard Philipe, and her husband and last love, Yves Robert! (Philipe front and center with open mouth, Robert looking sternly at him)

The movie, silly enough, had a scene with both Philipe and Robert in the same frame. I mentioned to Bonaparte that it was so odd to see both Danièle’s first and last loves together. That was at around 11:00 PM our time. It was 5:00 AM Paris time. Shortly thereafter, we watched “8 1/2” for a short time because I fell asleep.

Sunday afternoon, Bonaparte left the house to go to the grocery store. It was when he was gone that we received the news that Danièle was no longer with us. To the French, Danièle Delorme was a beloved actress. To Bonaparte, she was a loving aunt and a second mother. She was my French mother and a wonder friend and confidante.

Her “autobiography” “Demain, tout commence”. It’s her favorite saying. “Tomorrow everything starts”. Her grandson, Hugo Gelin has titled his upcoming film the same in her honor!

We lost a wonderful woman that day. I’m not what you would call “close” with many people. Other than my children and Bonaparte, I am somewhat of a loner. I share a close bond with relatives and with good friends, but it’s hard to open up. Over the years, I’ve shut myself off from many people.

Except Danièle.

She looks fabulous as a blonde. She went for this look in the mid-60’s!

She was dramatic—which explains why she was such a great actress! She was fun and animated. She was feisty and a shrewd business woman.

Daniele Delorme, NOT Leslie Caron was the original Gigi. When I asked Daniele if she was upset about the film version with Caron, Daniele just shrugged–she never wanted to do Hollywood films. She loved staying in France!

She starred with quite the number of leading men–among them Jean Cocteau’s partner, Jean Marais. Daniele said he was such a nice and quiet man.

An early publicity pose with her husband Yves Robert

And from the French TV show–Madame Le Proviseur. THIS show was a riot–she played a principal of a high school–and she SMOKED in her office!!!

Today, I just want to write some really great stuff that I remember about her. OK?

The first time I met her was actually in the street outside of her office. We stopped by to pick up the keys to her apartment as we had just arrived in France from our overnight flight and needed some serious rest.

Her office at Zazi Films was filled with tons of memorabilia. It was fun to just look through all the treasures!

She welcomed me ant turned to Bonaparte in surprise as she exclaimed “Oh. She’s very pretty!” (Was she expecting a cyclops?) After a period of rest and a stroll around the neighborhood, we returned back at 55 quai des Grands Augustins to the apartment. THIS time, the door opened and the strong scent of cigarettes blended with Guerlain’s “L’heure Bleue” perfume greeted me. Attached to this magnificent mix of scents was Danièle, clothed from head to toe in Sonia Rykiel, wearing a smile from cheek to cheek. She grabbed me and planted a kiss on each side of my face, then hugged me and gave me what was most likely the greatest and most aggressive welcome I’ve ever received in my life! And her personality was just that—larger than life!

L’heure Bleue and cigs–I KNOW–the combo sounds disgusting but it really wasn’t that bad. Those two scents will ALWAYS remind me of Daniele!

From that moment on I knew we would have a close relationship.

Over the years she has been generous to a fault to me. She has followed the college education and careers of Jake, Roman and Oona and has always taken a great interest in my children.

I will miss the way she would have the dinner table set so beautifully hours before it was time to sit down to enjoy our incredibly long meals of wonderful food, great wine and even greater conversation.

The table in the little yellow dining nook off the yellow galley kitchen was always set so nicely. It’s because of Daniele that I’ve become obsessive about my own table looking special!

I will miss our morning routine of petit jejeûner in her chambre. Danièle in bed; propped up with her many pillows. I would wheel her tray of freshly brewed tea and fresh croissant to her. I would sit at the opposite end of her bed. Bonaparte would sit at her desk by the window overlooking the courtyard. We would discuss the day’s plans and decide what we would be doing for dinner. Our morning conversations were always happy ones.

Our morning views could include any number of surprises–like the workers across the courtyard constructing another floor to the apartment building!

I will miss walking over to Place Dauphine to get her car—the little one with the dents and that same scent of cigarettes and L’heure Bleue, and driving back to the apartment to pick her up and drive her to either her office or to run errands.

I will miss our little glasses of Porto together. It was our time—pre aperitif when we would both send Bonaparte down to Rue Bucci to get a couple of baguettes—to enjoy each other’s girly company and laugh over partaking in the wine that Bonaparte could not stand!

I swear to God. This photo was taken after a few glasses of Porto–neither of us are lookin’ that swell here! But we had fun together!

I will miss our Sunday lunches at Paparotti in Issey-les-Moulineaux. On a sunny, warm late spring day, dining al fresco was a fun treat. I will miss our slow dinners at Chez Paul on Place Dauphine and our easy meals at Bistro St. Andre—a familiar place where everyone was family!

We had many great lunches at Paparotti..and that wasn’t counting the food!

I will miss how gracious she was whenever anyone recognized her. She would always take the time to stop and chat with those who remembered her from her many films. One time we were at Maintenon and stopped at a café for lunch. The waitress recognized Danièle and had her autograph a menu. A few minutes later the waitress’ father appeared at the restaurant and started a very animated conversation with her. It was the funniest thing to me because they were talking as if they were old friends. It was a blast!

I will miss her funny and animated stories about Jean Gabin, Jean Marais, Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin, Charles Aznavour and Brigitte Bardot—and all of the guests she and Yves entertained at their estate outside of Paris.

I will miss her dramatic tellings of both sad and chilling stories her life during WWII. She was actually arrested by the Gestapo but escaped!!

I will miss our shopping trips—especially the ones to the Guerlain boutique where she gave me the opportunity to feel like Cinderella!

But mostly, I will just miss HER! To me—she was just Danièle. And I love her so much!

Me, Antoine Bourseiller, a great friend of Daniele’s, and Daniele causing all kinds of rambunctious trouble on Pont Neuf a few years back!

I’ll miss the little field trips Bonaparte, Daniele and I went on–like the trips to Giverny and the Fondation Louis Vuitton this past summer!

A fun afternoon at the Fondation Louis Vuitton…..

..and a relaxing day at Giverny will always bring great memories of her!

Here’s to Danièle Delorme!

You were a shining star during your time on earth and gave pleasure to those who knew and loved you and to those who only knew you through your films. You are still a shining star. But now, I can look up to the sky and spot the first twinkling star of the evening and know that it is you winking down on Bonaparte and me!

I know you are one of those twinkling stars Daniele! I see you!!!

In honor of the fun times we had sneaking Porto. “Oh Oh Cherie” Francoise Hardy!

Posted in Death of a great French Actress. Daniele Delorme, France, Paris. French Actress | Tagged Daniele Delorme, French Actress, Loss., Memories | 32 Comments

A Dreamy, Ethereal Sunday Morning With Federico Fellini!

Posted on October 18, 2015 by Catherine

Its’ past noon on this chilly Sunday. Gone are the summer Sundays of jumping out of bed early and driving to the Shore or parts unknown to explore. Gone are the lazy summer Sunday mornings of sipping coffee and catching the sun’s rays on the deck.

Spending a Sunday morning like this is packed away till next year!

No. On this Sunday morning, dreams came to life in the form of two films.

Federico Fellini’s “8 1/2” and his beautiful coming-of-age story “Amarcord”.

Oscar Winning film “8 1/2”—the title comes from the 8 1/2 films that Fellini made.

“Amarcord”, memories loosely based on Felinni’s coming-of-age!

“8 1/2” is like watching a dream come to life. It brings memories of dreams you can remember.

It’s odd–last night I had a vivid dream. It was so clear. My oldest son, Jake, was about 12 years old. In this dream, something happened with friends getting into some sort of trouble and he was upset. In my dream, I held him and comforted him. I could actually feel the warmth of his breath and the scent of his hair. It was the sort of dream that stays with you long after you wake up. And you continue to remember that dream at various points in your life.

Visions of my grown son at this age were so crystal-clear in my dream!

That’s the kind of film that “8 1/2” is. In a nutshell without spoilers, Marcello Mastroianni, plays the role of Guido Anselmi, a film director, loosely based on Federico Fellini. He’s having a mental block, so to speak, in getting his latest film, a science fiction one, off the ground.

Even though Fellini looks nothing like Mastroianni, he was a perfect fit for the role! He’s such a great actor–and so handsome too!

The film is a visual delight of dreams. Some visuals grotesque and vulgar.

Eddra Gale as the grotesquely stunning Saraghina, whom the priests dub as “the devil”. She moves her body with sensuality and does a mean rumba!

Guido Anselmi, commanding his mistress, Carla, played by Sandra Milo, to put more slut makeup on. Who doesn’t love a film like this? I think Divine got the idea for his eyebrows from this film!

And some absolutely ethereal and beautiful. All shot in black and white, which gives the film more impact.

Claudia Cardinale is so drop-dead beautiful in this film. I want to look like her and do my hair and makeup like hers. The feathers on her outfit float so gracefully!

What are shown throughout the film are his relationships with the women in his life, his conflict with Catholicism and his career.

Anouk Aimee, who plays Luisa, Guido’s wife, and Carla, his mistress in a scene from the film.

Simple enough—but it can be confusing because there is just so much going on—just like dreams flitting from one scene to another. It’s funny and sad and touching at the same time. The film really has all the elements of the films that play in your own mind during a deep slumber. Especially the scenes from the Spa and the scene of a parade of clowns. It really is an incredible movie.

Spa scenes such as this, and with a cigarette no less, are shot in such a way that it doesn’t look real. It really seems as though you entered Fellini’s mind while he was sleeping and dreaming.

This parade is actually one of my favorite scenes from the movie.

New York Times Review of “8 1/2” Click on the link to the left for a review of this movie. It probably explains it a lot better than I can!

Next up…Bonaparte had to leave to see a client so Chippy and I sat back as I revisited another Fellini film I hadn’t watched since the late 1970’s. “Amarcord”—which, translated is “I remember”. The film is another mix of comedy and drama as it tells the semi-autobiographical exploits of Fellini’s late teen years as a schoolboy in Italy.

This poster is a great visual for the film–all the characters are neatly tied into this illustration!

New York Times Review of “Amarcord” Another review that’ll tell it better than I can!

Titta Biondi, played by Bruno Zanin, can be compared to Francois Truffaut’s Antoine Doinel.

Bruno Zanin, playing Titta Biondi, is a delinquent according to his father and a dirty sinner, according to the priest at the confessional. But–he’s just a normal teenager during the 1930’s growing up in Italy!

Perhaps it’s because Fellini appreciated a large ass on a woman that endears me to him. I know he would have appreciated mine!

I won’t elaborate, but this is one funny scene–and this woman’s ass and other assets play a major role!

But seriously, it’s fun to see a film where women are so revered in their physical beings—and it isn’t about beauty either. Many of the women of his films are not story-book beautiful-but they are unique in their individuality.

From the untouchable Gradisca, played by Magali Noel to the overly-endowed Tobacconist played by Maria Antonietta Beluzzi.

The “Garbo-esque” Gradisca, who longs for love is the woman that Titta fantasizes about.

Titta gets a true gift from “The Tobacconist” played by Maria Antonietta Beluzzi!

Her face may be longer, but I’m reminded of Amy Poehler with this character of Volpina–the town slut!

He also loved life. Laugh out loud moments come in the form of classroom scenes and confessional scenes.

Another incredibly funny moment is the scene when the family takes Titta’s crazy uncle, Teo, from the “hospital” he resides in, for a day of fresh air and fun at a farm in the country. Left alone with Titta’s grandfather, Teo makes his way up a tree for hours screaming “Voglio una donna”, “I want a woman”.

This is funny–but what’s even funnier is HOW he gets down from the tree–no spoilers here!

The family dinner scene was another one that had me cracking up!

This dinner scene had me laughing so hard that Chippy started barking!

Despite the hilariously funny scenes, there are moments of very subtle political unrest. This was during the 1930’s when Fascism reared it’s ugly little head.

The moments like this were short, but left an impact about what the Italians were faced with in their politics.

There are also sad scenes which start when Miranda, Titta’s mother, is hospitalized. A film that can make you laugh, cry and sigh with melancholy is a special one. That’s what’s so special about Amarcord. It brings emotions to the surface and makes you remember past moments in your own life that can bring a smile or a tear to you.

Schoolboys’ faces pressed against a window brings a smile!

And we cannot forget the narrator–known as “The Lawyer”. Every town has one of these guys–an expert on everything!

Watching the films also inspired me to give myself some “8 1/2” eye makeup!

I’m obsessed with this makeup. Obsessed I tell you!

I tried to do my eyes the same way, but mine are too wrinkly. Dammit. Oh well, I tried!

What better way than to spend a Sunday afternoon then to play around with cosmetics after spending the morning watching Fellini films with my Chippy!

My intellectual canine buddy, Chippy. He’s deep in thought pondering the films we just watched!

Take a weekend day to stay home. Forget the chores and the “stuff” that needs to be done—you’ll get around to it. Enjoy life in the form of a film..and make sure it is one that will tug at your heartstrings and turn the corners of your mouth into a huge smile!

Oh…before I forget. Bonaparte’s cousin is directing a film with Omar Sy–remember him from “The Intouchables”? Well, this film is titled “Demain tout Commence”. It’s in production now and should prove to be a heartwarming and touching film. Here’s a photo that Julien Panie snapped.

Filming in London now. I sure hope this film makes it’s way to the USA!

Today, I bring you the ethereal Theme music by Nino Rota from Felinni’s “Amarcord”. It’s very dreamy and smooth and makes you want to go about your day in slow motion!

Posted in "8 12" "Amarcord" Hugo Gelin, Julien Panie. Demain tout Commence. French film. Omar Sy, Nino Rota | Tagged Film. Felinni. Foreign Film. Dreams. Writing 101 | 12 Comments

Just Because I Disagree With You Doesn’t Mean I’m a “Hater”! Use a Different Word for Crissakes!

Posted on October 17, 2015 by Catherine

We need to have a little lesson today about vocabulary. Vocabulary is a body of words that we use.

Yes. I am afraid we need to take MANY steps back to learn and to use and to appreciate basic vocabulary!

As a young student “Vocabulary” was a little branch of the subject of “English”. We would receive weekly lists of vocabulary words to memorize. We would also have to put these words into sentences. To this day, my all-time favorite word is “sanguine”.

Meaning:

I don’t know why–but “sanguine” remains one of my favorite words of all time.

Usage in a sentence: She looked down at the wet, sanguine stream flowing down from her neck after the sanguine child vampire bit her and thought, in her most sanguine way, that she wouldn’t have to worry about aging anymore!

Note the sanguine tie and ribbon on the vampire cape I made for my little sanguine vampire. Check out that sanguine expression on Roman’s face!

Another favorite vocabulary word was “pithy”.

“Pithy”–not pity, is another fun word!

This word presently brings to mind an incredibly vulgar and unprofessional woman with whom I worked with in healthcare. She was a bully and highly impressed with herself. Trust me, there was a large amount of her body to be impressed with. With her overly bleached locks, poorly applied cosmetics and ample size making way throughout the office, she resembled Miss Piggy. THAT assessment is a “pithy” one.

My apologies to you Miss Piggy, but an ex-coworker truly DOES resemble you. Don’t worry, YOU are the good-looking version Piggy!

Words can be used in a most creative way—as long as they are the proper words to use.

Lately, I’m extremely confused about modern-day vocabulary. There is one word in particular that is driving me up the wall. That word is “Hater”!

Not only is it a ridiculous word, but it is misused and it is overused in the wrong ways.

Here’s an example—I love Bernie Sanders. Honestly, Bernie and Hil—I adore them both. However, I don’t agree with Sanders on gun control. His views aren’t strict enough. Because I simply did not agree with this view, I was called a “hater” by someone.

Are you fucking kidding me? (And yes, curse words can be wonderful expressions—they are a part of my vocabulary and are used very well). Disagreeing with someone does NOT a hater make.

In this photo taken May 20, 2015, Democratic Presidential candidate Sen. Bernie Sanders, I-Vt., poses for a portrait before an interview with The Associated Press in Washington. For Democrats who had hoped to lure Massachusetts Sen. Elizabeth Warren into a presidential campaign, independent Sen. Bernie Sanders might be the next best thing. Sanders, who is opening his official presidential campaign Tuesday in Burlington, Vermont, aims to ignite a grassroots fire among left-leaning Democrats wary of Hillary Rodham Clinton. He is laying out an agenda in step with the party's progressive wing and compatible with Warren's platform _ reining in Wall Street banks, tackling college debt and creating a government-financed infrastructure jobs program. (AP Photo/Jacquelyn Martin)

(AP Photo/Jacquelyn Martin)

Bernie. I love you. I want either you or Ms. Clinton to be our next President of these United States. However, I don’t think your views on gun control are strong enough. That does NOT make me a hater! It makes me a “liker” of you but a “disagreer” of gun laws.

If you have a Facebook account, you will know what I’m talking about. Lots of newspapers, TV stations, magazines all have FB pages. They publish articles about politics, religion, guns, entertainment—and the comment sections are always a better and more entertaining read. The most popular and overused word is “hater”.

Someone doesn’t like a pair of shoes. They are labeled a “hater”.

Yo. Don’t you be hatin’ on my pointy, toe-cleavage bearing Via Spiga flats. You a hater???

You don’t like jellybeans. Oh. You hater, you!

Let it be known. I despise jellybeans because I don’t like the gummy texture or the flavors–but that doesn’t make me a hater! How could I hate on a candy that is so colorful?

What’s that? You would rather have a burger than a hot dog? OMG. You frankhatur!!!

How miserable can one be to actually hate an innocent hot dog? I may dislike them if they aren’t dirty water dogs but I would never hate on a food item!

Did Taylor Swift start this hater trend with that hater song of hers?

My daughter warned me not to bring Tay-tay into this. Oh dammit–is Oona now a mom hater?

Hey. I don’t care for Tater Tots–does that make me a “tater hater”?

Words like hater are lazy vocabulary choices. Can’t you just use your brain to think for a moment of a different and more creative word? How about “misanthrope” or “skeptic” or “doubter”. “Egoist” is a good word. It’s negative but not in such a harsh way. It’s kinder. How about just saying someone is a miserable or angry person instead?

Really. “Hate” is an incredibly serious word. I hate Hitler, but that doesn’t make me a hater of the human race. You could say that old Adolf was a true hater, but that is such a basic word to describe him. He was demented, evil, masochistic, twisted and a truly sick bastard. Don’t those words give a better visual of the kind of person he was rather than use “hater”?

“Hater” is too subtle of a word for this demented sadistic and truly evil bastard. He deserves the strongest words possible to describe his heinous crimes and actions against humanity!

Look at Jim Bob and Michelle Duggar. They spew hatred from every bone in their fake Christian bodies. If you go on one of their fan-based Facebook pages, you will note that anyone who doesn’t agree with the conservative Gothard cult ideology they live by is labeled “hater”. That alone proves to me that the Duggar fan base is uneducated, dumb as all get-out, pea-brained and lacks any form of intelligence. Their vocabulary range is limited.

Here’s another group that needs words stronger than “hater” to describe what they are truly like. Their smiles hide vengeance and hatred against anyone who does not share their ideologies. I would use uneducated, miserable, dishonest, phoney, exploitative, narrow-minded, and angry morons to describe them. It’s more creative and more fun to come up with different ways to say how disgusting these people are! And look at their idiot political hog friend! What a crew!

I despise the Duggars. I truly hate their beliefs and I absolutely hate the way they hide behind my good friend, Hipster Jesus. My other good friend, Satan, also hates the way the Duggars hide behind Hipster Jesus. But that doesn’t make Satan and me haters—that’s so common! I like to think of us a cynics!

Hipster Jesus is so nice he would never hate anyone or anything–but that doesn’t mean he won’t turn you away and send you to that little devil! And just look at that smile on Satan–how could anyone call him a hater? He LOVES badass souls! Look at me–stuck in the middle. Do I have the face of a hater? I think not!

You know, language is a beautiful thing and so is using vocabulary in a creative way just as beautiful. Words are little gifts. They are gifts that we should use wisely. We need to save the strong words for those emotional and passionate moments. We need to be concise in using words. We need to have fun with words.

And if you don’t agree with me then…you….are….a…hater!!!!!! Fooled ya! You are just contrarian, confrontational, quarrelsome, snippy, volatile, combative, argumentative!

I want to change the verbiage of this to “Keep Calm and Forget The WORD Haters”!

Think. Think of that overused word that you hear all the time. The one that drives you nuts. Let me know about it! Let’s start thinking about better words to use—it’ll be a fun thing to do! Word up!

Here’s an old Bee Gee’s song “Words”. It’s really pretty, beautiful, enchanting, melodic and sweet! XOXOXOXO!!!!

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged #Humor, Language, Vocabulary, Words | 23 Comments

The Temping Temptress is Back at Work! (For a While)

Posted on October 15, 2015 by Catherine

Hi everyone! The past two weeks have found me as happy as a little, medium, big-ass clam.

That would be me. A happy little clam–only with more clothing and makeup!

I started a temp job as an administrative assistant. Even though the position will terminate at month’s end, it has given me the boost of self-worth and confidence that I was losing. It is also bringing me back to a work environment that I hadn’t been a part of for years.

There is something glorious and wonderful about a corporate culture that exhibits respect, equality and kindness to its employees. As an outsider, I get to observe—and I also get to be a participant. The bar is set high.

With two jobs that ended due to office closings and one job that was just a nightmarish blip in my career, my track record was a bit…unlucky! And despite the fact I never found a job within the window of my 26 weeks of receiving unemployment benefits, I was able to keep my skills in order by starting the blog.

Actually, writing my blog keeps my sanity and engaging with friends who read my blog really keeps my sanity because of the wonderful encouragement and support I’ve received and continue to receive!

Anyway, enough about that because I want to talk more about this temp job.

After many interviews. And spending many hours being interviewed with the same questions and having to be “on” and all peppy and gung ho and having to squeeze my fat ass and thunder thighs into my J. Crew skirts that are just a tad too tight from stress eating and shoving little mounds of Chapstick into my fine lines and wrinkles to blur my age because I cannot afford Botox or a face lift, only to be rejected, my confidence was shot. Yes. I was so far down in the dumps I had to look up to look under!

With the help of shapewear, I’m able to squeeze just a bit more comfortably! My clothing is just as happy as I am!

Bonaparte and I decided that it was time to take a different career direction and I would do temp work. By working as a temp, I would be earning enough money to contribute to the household, save for vacations and little weekend trips AND I could sock some money away for my coveted LV Neverfull bag! (Hey—no matter what, I’m still deeply shallow!)

The one thing I’m saving for–and I refuse to purchase a Michael Kors copy-cat version. Ugh! Only LV for moi!

OK—so wait. Here’s where it gets great. Bonaparte went online and applied for a couple of temp positions for me. I get a phone call from the HR department of a company that liked my resume. We talk. I am asked if I will be available for another phone interview. Naturally, I say “Of course!” Second interview goes fine. At the end of the interview I ask what the next step will be. I’m told that I have the job and HR will get back to me with an offer.

Offer made and accepted. Background check completed. Drug testing done.

Fun at the Drug Test! In case you didn’t read about my drug testing fun–have a read!

The job I ended up with was one where I didn’t spend three hours being bombarded with questions and pondering over how I handled a difficult situation with a coworker! Go figure!

Waking up in the morning and having coffee while applying my makeup is a charm. Deciding which outfit to wear is a choice that I find most lovely!

I’m no “Angel” of the morning, but I’m so like Pollyanna when it comes to being happy about what to wear!

My feet are so over-the-moon delighted to be in pointy-toed heels once again!

Fake tanned and toe-cleavage bearing pointy-toed shoes make my feet jump for joy! (Well, really not jump–my bladder can no longer handle jumping!)

The legs are shaved and fake tanned! The worst part about getting ready for work is plucking those surprising lady whiskers that seem to pop up overnight and covering my bald spots without looking Trumpesque!

Thank God for all the hair products I have to cover my bald spots without having to look like him!

Yes. I am looking every inch the “Temping Temptress!”

I truly am happy to be back in an incredibly professional office! Yes. I’m the “Temping Temptress!”

I love the 20 minute commute. I love driving into the parking lot and walking into the office building. I even love the dopey look on my face that the camera snapped when I had my security badge made!

Isn’t it a beautiful office? I LOVE driving into this parking lot!

It is a pleasure to walk through the doors and greet the receptionist with a smile and a “Good morning!”

It’s even more of a pleasure to enter through the doors and make my way to my own (Ok…so it really belongs to the woman who’s place I’m taking until she returns next month) little cubicle. I love sitting down at the desk and turning the computer on and signing in for the day!

I swear to you, this is my happy place. I am so damned grateful to at least have a temp job!

I’ve personalized my temporary space with a printout of the kids!

My electronic timesheet is my friend. My office Skype is my favorite toy and I love sending little IM’s to the people I interact with. I adore answering the phones for the execs and leaving messages for them on the little message pads.

I love filling these little pads out–I even have assorted colors. Assorted colors!!!!!!

I especially love restocking the little bistro area! It allows my OCD to shine. I make sure all the Equal, Splenda and sugar packets all face the same direction. I am careful in filling the little beverage packages into the cute little drawers. Yes. I take pride in ANY task!

I’ve never even seen little packets like this. They are so cute and the chai is to die for!

Its fun to have unlimited amounts of warm and spicy chai!

The hot water is soooo hot that I have to double up on the cups! But I get to drink Chai during the day and with the cooler weather, this is nirvana!

I get a thrill just organizing office supplies and cleaning and organizing the supply room. It’s almost as therapeutic as ironing clothing!

Nothing says office is heaven than a well-organized supply room…and I’ve made the office supply room heavenly!

There is a very large comfort level in being a temp that I’ve never felt before. Perhaps it is because at the end of my gig, I can move onto another office and observe a different environment. Or maybe it’s because as a temp, nobody expects too much for me—so any time I offer to assist, it can be a welcoming change. Whatever the case, I am so happy because this job has given my self-esteem a well-needed boost.

I now know that I am a great fit for an incredibly professional office. I’ve been validated in realizing that by being proactive and assertive, I’m respected and appreciated.

Hey. I even started my Christmas shopping during my lunch hours. How great is that?

That’s right! Yesterday during lunch I started Christmas shopping. Can’t tell you what’s in here–gotta wait till December 25th!

Here’s a work song that I’m sure you haven’t heard in a while, because I haven’t heard it in ages! Whenever I hear it, I’m reminded of my days on the Long Island Railroad with my girlfriend, Joanne—we both worked in New York City and were living at home! Bachman, Turner, Overdrive—”TCB-Taking Care of Business” Watch out! XOXOXOXOXO!!!

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged happiness, Office, Work | 41 Comments

Atypical 60

I Love to Complain and Bitch. Therefore, I Vote!

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